The Monsters In Our Minds
by TB's LMC
Summary: A tag to Season 4, Episode 4 "Unruhe" which roams off into non-canon territory. MSR!


**THE MONSTERS IN OUR MINDS**

 _A tag to Season 4, Episode 4 "Unruhe" which roams into non-canon territory_

Scully removed her glasses as the tears left her eyes, snaking down her cheeks and clinging to her jawline before finally dropping off to make darkened dots on the thin sweater she wore.

Gently, slowly, she placed the glasses next to the computer with her right hand, while in her left she still held the picture of herself that Mulder had gotten from the pharmacy photo booth.

Jaw opening, flexing, closing. Disbelief and yet what more proof could she require than that which she held now in her hand? If Mulder hadn't been who he was; if he wasn't always ready to believe the most inexplicable explanation that could possibly exist, Scully would be a zombie right now.

Or as near to one as a person could get while still biologically alive.

The women named in Gerry's diary had all been found. Most were Jane Does admitted to various hospitals. Their inability to identify themselves; indeed their complete lack of responsiveness, had made it impossible for officials to know precisely who they were until the FBI had come calling with a very specific image of the types of women they sought.

Image.

She closed her eyes, forcing more tears forth. The photo dropped from her hand as she shoved the chair back and rose to her feet. Scully sniffled just as someone tapped quietly on her front door.

Really, she wanted no company. Not tonight. Her mind was in turmoil, forever tainted by trying to understand Gerry well enough to stay alive. No wonder Mulder used to lose himself inside the minds of monsters back when he'd profiled. Scully just couldn't get past the fact that she'd been able to get herself to that place with Gerry. That she'd allowed herself to.

The knock came again.

"Scully, are you awake? It's me," heard muffled through the door.

She choked back a sob. He'd saved her life. The least she could do was let him in. Like a woman on automatic pilot, Scully moved to the front door, slid the chain back, unlocked the deadbolt, unlocked the doorknob. Halfheartedly twisted it and let the door open a bit. Turned. Walked back toward the desk.

"Hey, I…" His voice trailed off. "Scully?"

She was two seconds away from losing it altogether. She dared not turn and look into eyes that would be full of sympathy. Full of horror. Full of guilt for allowing things to get as far as they had. He took the weight of the world on his shoulders, her Mulder.

Scully half huffed out a mirthless laugh. _Her_ Mulder. As if.

Only two weeks earlier this man, who was closing and locking her front door by the sounds of it, had said, "I never saw you as a mother before."

What had he seen her as? Was she that cold? That clinical, that Fox Mulder couldn't fathom a womanly, motherly side to her? Was that the image she projected? Was it just because they were always clashing with his uber-belief in everything non-scientific and her refusal to admit that anything occurred outside the realm of science?

Or was it simply that he didn't find her attractive enough to think any man would want her to bear his children?

The tears began anew as he circled her. She didn't look at him.

"Scully, I'm sorry."

Sorry for what? Not thinking she could be a mother? Being right about Gerry and those psychic photographs?

For that's what they were – not that she'd ever put that in a report because there was no scientific way to prove it. But only because _Mulder_ had believed that's what they were with every fiber of his being, was Scully still able to string a coherent thought together, rather than having been made a vegetable.

"I should've seen it coming."

Finally she met his eyes. And she'd been right, finding there what she'd known she would: sympathy. Horror. Guilt.

But there was something else in them, too. She cocked her head and swallowed hard as he took a step closer, as though afraid he might spook her if he moved too quickly. A hand reached up, hovered between them in midair.

Fox Mulder was the most cocksure man she'd ever run across, fully happy to let everyone think he was a raving lunatic as he spouted his wild theories to all who had ears to hear them. Only a handful of times had she ever seen him with this sort of look on his face, and they'd mostly had to do with those he loved being in peril. His sister. His mother. His father.

And he had it now.

 _He had it now._

She swallowed again as his hand moved forward and cupped her cheek. Instinctively her eyelids fluttered closed as she leaned into his touch.

"Oh, God," he breathed, pulling her into his body, tucking her head under his chin where it fit like the two of them were adjoining puzzle pieces. "I know you had to get into his head." His breath was like a feather caressing her ear. His whispered words slithered into her mind like liquid velvet made of sunlight.

Scully wrapped her arms around him so tightly she was able to clasp them together over his spine. His arms responded by squeezing her like he was trying to pull her into him, perhaps to keep her safe. The only person close to him who wasn't either dead, missing or refusing to give him answers - like his mother continued to do even after her miraculous recovery from the stroke - had very nearly perished at the hands of their latest monster of the week, as they'd taken to calling the strange freaks of nature they pursued.

He pulled away slightly and she made herself meet his eyes.

Only last week those eyes had saved her life. He hadn't been able to move a single part of his body. Hadn't been able to speak. There he'd lain on the floor in Aboah's lair, eyes flicking to her and then behind her. To her. Behind her. To her and behind her. With his eyes he had shown her his fear. Not for himself, but for _her_.

He had the same look in his eyes now, darkened by the dim light to where they looked almost black.

His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, raising his hand and smoothing his thumb along her cheek. "I can't lose you." His voice was so quiet it was barely a croaked-out whisper. Choked with emotion he didn't seem to know how to express.

She could make a joke right now about how that must be why he kept saving her, or how he wouldn't lose her if he kept swooping in at the last minute like a knight on a white horse every time she got into trouble.

His eyes. So expressive. So full of…sympathy. Horror. Guilt.

"I love you, Scully."

Now tears filled _his_ eyes as he waited for her to process his words. But they came as no surprise. No matter what she'd always tried to tell herself to the contrary, no matter what excuses she'd manufactured, the fact was that starting on their fourth year together as partners, she wasn't so blind as to not know deep down what had been there between them from the very beginning when they'd been standing out on a dark two-lane road in the middle of a nowhere forest, in the pouring down rain over top of a spray-painted X.

She didn't trust her voice to work. Didn't know if her eyes were as expressive as his. Could he read them? A line from a movie came to her suddenly. _Can you read my mind?_

He leaned down and touched his lips to hers.

Yes. He could.

And as he kissed her…as they crossed that line together…she felt the liquid velvet made of sunshine pour into the darkness that her time in Gerry's presence had filled her with. She felt it bring light to a black heart that hated Luis Cardinal for shooting Melissa…that hated Alex Krycek…that hated Cancer Man and those who'd abducted her and done things to her.

She felt heat begin to melt the icy bits and pieces frozen by betrayals and deaths and the knowledge that before she'd gotten assigned to the X-Files she'd led an almost benign existence, and yet for all the utter hell she'd been through in the last four years, this man whose very essence was permeating her every cell as their mouths opened to deepen this first kiss had given her a purpose she'd never before known.

And though she wished every single day that her sister was still alive, Scully knew that in spite of the tragic losses both she and Mulder had suffered, they had found something in each other that neither of them had even been looking for, let alone aware that they needed.

He pulled away. Smiled sheepishly. "I didn't come here to take advantage of you, Scully."

God, he looked like a shy schoolboy worried he was about to get caught kissing a girl behind the shed on the playground. She couldn't help the smile that burst forth. But then it faded as her thoughts returned.

"We've both lost so much, Mulder."

He nodded. His hand still held her cheek. His thumb still brushed her cheekbone.

She raised her eyes to his. "But we've both gained so much, too."

A new look in his eyes, now. Hope?

Her eyes darted to her living room sofa. "Just hold me?"

He nodded and led her to the couch. They settled in, Scully mostly in his lap, his arms around her protectively like he was daring the shadow government, Cancer Man or the Devil himself to come anywhere near her tonight.

After a time – she didn't know how long as she dozed in his arms feeling safe, secure – he spoke quietly.

"You know, I never realized it until tonight."

"Realized what?" Her voice sounded scratchy from crying and lack of use.

Her head lay on his shoulder, forehead pressing into his neck where she could feel his pulse strong and steady against her skin.

"I never slept much before I met you."

She raised her head to look at him. He met her gaze.

"I guess after all these years I've finally found the only person who can quiet the monsters in my mind." A small smile from him. He seemed…embarrassed, almost. As though he'd just admitted a hidden weakness he was afraid to expose even to her.

Scully nestled back into his embrace, head once again on his shoulder. "I don't know, Mulder," she replied. "I think maybe we _both_ needed someone to quiet the monsters in our minds."

"I do that for you?"

Raising her head again, she smiled. Yes, great hope in his eyes. Hope she was going make sure never left.

"You sure have tonight."

A real, genuine smile from him and their lips met again. Chastely. Gently. There was passion. There was desire. There was longing. But most of all there was respect. There was dignity. There was a shared existence that only the two of them could ever possibly understand.

And there was love.


End file.
